Thirteen Roses Book Five: Home: A Paranormal Zombie Saga (3 page)

‘That could have gone better.’ Krystal said.

Bayleigh gave her a look and pointed at another of the vans. Without waiting for a reply, she dashed across the space in seconds. Krystal stayed put, watching her friend pull on the door. It opened and she climbed up. Moments later, her head stuck out and she waved Krystal over. With a sad look back at her bike, Krystal set off.
 

It was further away than Bayleigh had made it look and she’d gone barely ten feet when the door of the van behind her slammed shut. She glanced back. The soldier had closed the passenger door, doing his best to make as much noise as possible. A group of zombies heard the sound, turned, and spotted her.
 

Shit. She put her head down and ran faster.
 

Jackson

The night opened wide before him and he dived into it. The sound of flapping wings reached him and he howled in frustration. Az was getting away. The demon was leaving and there was nothing he could do to stop him. He saw the shattered glass pane going past his face and some instinct made him grab for it.
 

The back of his right hand struck the edge of the glass and twisted. His fingers closed around the sharp edge and he clung on. His body spun, his feet coming past his head, and in the next second he grabbed the glass with his left hand as well. His fall stopped as his full body weight slammed against the building and the glass cut deep into his fingers.
 

His body, bruised and beaten by his fight with the demon, twisted and shook at the end of his arms. His shoulders screamed and he contemplated how it would feel to just let go and fall. He wouldn’t feel the impact. It would happen too quickly. One second he’d be flying and the next he’d land, and all the stress and pain would be gone.
 

Blood ran into his eye and he blinked furiously. He wasn’t letting go, not for anyone and certainly not for that red winged bastard. He stared up at his hands, neck aching, and watched the glass turn red. A face appeared above them. Harriet, pale and panicking, reached down to grab his wrist.
 

‘I’ve got you.’

Stupid bitch. He almost let go so he could cuff her. She didn’t have him any more than Az did. Guilt swept through him but went just as quickly. There would be time for guilt later. Now he just had to stay alive. Other faces appeared, more of the ladies brave enough to get near the window.
 

He had to give it to Harriet. She didn’t seem bothered by the enormous drop just beneath him. He glanced down and his stomach jumped up into his mouth. In the darkness, he couldn’t see the floor, and the street lamps were tiny spots of light. He looked back up. Another of the ladies had taken his other wrist and her hand closed around it with surprising strength. Maybe they could pull him up.
 

He smirked. Not a chance. ‘Is there a fire hose?’

‘What?’

‘Is there a fire hose anywhere. You can tie that around my arms and something solid in there.’

‘But I can’t let you go.’

He laughed, like there was something funny about it. ‘The glass is halfway through my fingers. I’m not going anywhere, not unless it chops my fingers off.’

He made it sound as harsh as he could and Harriet blanched, but she kept hold of his wrists. The stronger lady had left as soon as he spoke and now she returned bearing the end of the fire hose. He could have kissed her and happily would as well. She was full-lipped like Harriet, made for kissing. And other things. He couldn’t see her tits from down here, but he’d have a good look soon as he got up.
 

She looped the hose around his wrist a few times and tied it off. He nodded, gritting his teeth in a vain attempt to stave off the dizziness that was assailing him. He could see three Harriets, though whether it was down to being beaten shitless, or hanging by his fingers from a window, he couldn’t say.
 

‘What’s it attached to?’

‘I wound it round everything I could find. Including a pillar.’

It would have to do. ‘You can try and pull me up now.’

It was agonising. Four of them squeezed together and got hold of him. They heaved and he came up a little way before they lost their hold. He dropped back down, the glass cut back into the wounds, and he blacked out. The pain dragged him back just as quick. He growled deep in his throat and bit his lip. ‘Try not to do that again.’

The ladies nodded nervously and got another hold. This time they hauled him high enough for him to get his elbows over the edge of the floor. He rested on them a second, not looking at his hands. The stronger lady, who he was liking more every second, grabbed the hose and leant out the window. It flapped against his legs before wrapping around them. She waved others over to help her and they pulled his legs slowly up and in.
 

They rolled him away from the edge. There were more than just the stronger lady with balls to show. None of them seemed bothered by the wind rushing through the broken window, and none of them balked at his shattered hands. It was what he deserved. He was God’s chosen. But it paid to notice when people stepped up.
 

It was the last thing he remembered thinking before he looked at his hand. His two shattered fingers stuck out at horrible angles, bone jutting from one of them. The rest were cut deep across the fattest joint. He tried to move them and the world went away.
 

He was in bed. It was a vast improvement to hanging out the window. He was also naked save the massive bandages wrapped around both hands. He remembered the face of the strong lady and smiled. Perhaps she’d undressed him. If she had, it wouldn’t be long before she came calling.
 

The door opened and his heart leapt. It was Harriet. She swayed in with enough verve to take his mind off the other lady. She perched on the bed and stroked his face.
 

‘How are you?’

‘How do you think? My hands are fucked. How are you?’

‘Worried.’

‘That’s nice—’

‘Not about you. Well, I am worried about you, but I mean about us. What was it that you drove out of here?’

‘A demon. He’s called Az. He’s an old friend of Luke’s.’

‘I knew it.’

‘Yeah, well, they aren’t friends so much anymore.’

‘Will he come back?’

‘Dunno. Probably. Where are the women he shagged?’

She blushed, which was the strangest thing he’d seen in a while. ‘They’re in their rooms. They’re feeling really sick.’

‘That figures. Demon cum can’t be good for you.’

She blushed again and he snorted. ‘What happened to you? When did you get so coy.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m not, I’m just… it’s different when it isn’t us. I convinced them to come here and then this happens. It’s my fault.’

‘No it’s not. It’s the bloody demon’s fault. But he’s gone and now you’ve all seen his real face. I’d call that a pretty good deal.’

‘But what about Sarah and Hayley?’

‘What about them? There are always casualties.’

‘Casualties. We not fighting a war, Jackson.’

‘What? Have you seen the zombies out there? Did you see me fighting that bastard? Course we’re in a war.’

She turned away and sniffed. Maybe he’d been too harsh, but he didn’t much care. She needed to understand the reality of the situation. He tried to sit up and his chest tightened. He grunted and lay back. She ran her hand down the side of his face again.
 

‘Take it easy. Ella thinks you cracked a rib.’

‘Who’s Ella?’

‘She’s great. She’s one of the ones who helped—’

‘She the one got the hose?’

Harriet frowned. ‘Yes, that’s her. She’s studying to be a doctor. She sorted your hands for you.’

‘What about them?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When can I move them and use them?’

Harriet turned away but he saw the look on her face before she did.
 

‘What, what is it?’

She took a deep breath and stepped away from the bed. ‘Your right hand has lost two fingers, the ones the demon crushed. The others should work again, but it might take a few weeks before you can really do anything with them.’ She took another breath and Jackson ground his teeth together. ‘Your left hand… most of your weight was on it and… Ella said she could be wrong, but she doesn’t think you’ll use it again.’

‘What?’

‘Your fingers. All the nerves and tendons were severed. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to use them again.’

He clamped his teeth together to try to stop the torrent of a— ‘What the fuck? I’ve lost my hand and you come in here moaning with your fucking self pity. What the fuck is this? What sort of stupid, dumb bitch are you, you stupid c—’

She struck his left hand and the words became a scream that left him panting and sweating. She leant in close. ‘I’m with you because you are here to lead us in the new world. And I’m with you because you make me feel good. But use that language at me again and we are finished.’

She stalked from the room and he watched her go, eyes wide open. Then he burst out laughing. He laughed until tears streamed down his face and he started coughing, hacking himself breathless. Finally he subsided and lifted his left hand. Blood was soaking through the bandages. Why were there bandages on there if it was useless? Why didn’t she just chop the damned things off and seal it with fire?

Where was Ella? He wanted words with her. Words and more. He grinned and tried to sit up again. He was ready for the pain in his chest this time and held his breath until he was upright. He lifted one leg and let it hang over the edge of the bed. There wasn’t any part of him that didn’t ache. But he could stand, which meant he could walk.
 

He lifted his other leg out and put them on the floor. Using his elbows, he pushed himself upright and stood. The room spun around him and he leant back against the bed. Steady. Slow, easy breaths and take it easy. The door opened again and the strong lady came in.
 

‘Ella?’

Her forehead creased as she saw him. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?’ She marched over and shoved him back onto the bed. He was too weak to complain as she lifted first one leg and then the other back under the sheets. ‘You stay here until I say otherwise. You’ve lost a lot of blood, you’ve got a cracked rib and a lot of bruising. Frankly, you got off lightly—’

‘I could get off again, if you fancy it.’
 

Her eyebrows rose and she looked like she might spit. Instead she smiled tightly and shook her head. ‘Quite aside from your relationship with Harriet, I have as much intention of making love to you as flying to the moon—’

‘I wasn’t thinking about making love. Maybe you could do me a nurse’s service?’

She hissed at him and stormed to the door. ‘You stay here, in bed. Do you understand?’

He didn’t reply and she rushed out, slamming the door behind her. He settled back against the pillows, sucking in air between his teeth. Tiny tits anyway. He could stay here for a bit longer. Not much reason to get up now he’d seen her. He lifted his left hand. Not much reason to get up at all.
 

Something got in his eye and he blinked it away, swallowing against the lump threatening to form in his throat. He still had his right. Most of it. He could live without his left hand. Although…

He started to pull at the bandages with his teeth. Maybe he didn’t have to live without it. Maybe he could make himself a more useful tool for the Lord. If he was to spend his life fighting zombies, then why not have the weapons he needed on hand? He sniggered. That was a good one.
 

The bandages lifted scab and skin as they came off, and he scowled, grinding his teeth together to keep the shout of pain inside. He sneered at himself. He’d battled a demon, what was a bit of pain in his hand?
 

The bandages dropped to the sheet and he stared. His fingers were doubled over, like he had four joints instead of only three. The rest of his hand looked pretty good. There was potential there.

His right hand was still wrapped and until it healed he couldn’t do anything, anyway. Both hands dropped to the sheets and his head rocked back against the pillow. This was so boring, so damned boring. He hated being trapped like this. He glanced at his hands again. Maybe he could begin surgery without his right hand.
 

He raised his left hand and stared at his little finger. It was held on by a strap of skin and the tiniest bone he’d ever seen. Little fingers were pointless at the best of times. He didn’t stop to think or give himself a chance to wimp out. He shoved his little finger in his mouth and found the cut. His last thought was that he might need to remove the knuckle as well. Then he bit down and his vision went dark.
 

Luke

The Father wasn’t listening. Was this how humans felt all the time? It had to be, because they never received an answer. He, on the other hand, expected one. But here and now he was finding it hard to remain faithful. How did humans do it, with thousands of years of never getting an answer, of never having proof? People like Alex made much more sense to him now.
 

Alex could see what he believed in, see it and prove it. But religious people believed in something with no substance. They believed in something they could never prove. Not until now.
 

How many believers would have found consolation in the appearance of Seph? Etienne and his men clearly had. At least someone had found something good in it. Luke was ready to spit at the constant questions going round and round in his brain. He was even enjoying training the ladies for the peace it gave him from the endless doubt.
 

Should he join Seph and Az and finish the job he started thousands of years ago? Was it time, finally, to overthrow the old bastard and bring about the new order? There was no logical reason he could think of not to. He could reopen Hell and run the Flights how he wanted. He would finally be in control of himself after three hundred years of slow, subtle brainwashing.